


Show No Mercy

by LadyLustful



Category: Marvel (Comics), Punisher - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cock & Ball Torture, Femdom, Gen, Humiliation, No knowledge of canon required, Non-Erotic, Scat, Torture, Trampling, Violence, duh - Freeform, fandom being fandom I should probably tag it, implied violence against women, incidental scat in a torture context, mentioned human trafficking, stepping on people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 15:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10192712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLustful/pseuds/LadyLustful
Summary: A criminal finds himself in the power of a woman with a grudge.Or, the pretty female ginger Punisher tortures some sh*tbag until he sh*ts himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_math](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_math/gifts).



> Written in celebration of Women's Day. Because some ladies like flowers, some like clothes and and apparently this one likes torture porn.

She's been investigating this slavery ring for several weeks. If by "investigating" you mean picking off the mob soldiers one by one, torturing them for information about the higher-ranked members. This one is next. A fat, bald asshole with a mustache, in a house way too nice for someone with no education and no apparent job. Stupid. It takes hardly any effort to break in and press a chloroform-soaked rag to his face while he watches television.

She secures him in the garage, on his back with arms and legs spread, cuts his clothes off, then waits.

He wakes up, glances up at where she's standing at the table, her back to him.

She knows how she must look. A pale, angry woman, red hair slipping untidily out of its bun and sticking to the back of her neck with sweat.

Black cargo pants, black combat boots, black bulletproof vest with a white skull sprayed on it. Webbing belt with two Glocks in holsters and two wicked-looking tactical knives in black sheaths. Her one concession to the humid July heat is wearing a black tank top underneath rather than her usual long-sleeved t-shirt. It's hot, sure, but it was hotter in the Middle East.

"I know about your little slavery ring. I know what you've been doing to all those women. And I'm going to kill you for it. You only get to choose how much pain you're going to be in. So, who are you working for?"

"Think I'm gonna tell you bitch?

"You don't want to talk? Your choice. I have time. And tools. And experience. And an overactive imagination. Which is all good for me to have, of course, but nowhere near good for yourself. But I think I'll start with something simple."

She steps between the criminal's spread legs, nudges the limp, shrivelled dick up almost gently, trapping his balls between the front of her boot sole and the rough, concrete floor. Then she presses down. The fat bastard squirms and moans, then gasps when she leans forward, shifting her weight to her toes. Then, she shifts back. "You gonna talk now?"

"Ow, fuck you bitch!"

So she shift her weight back onto her toes, harder than before, and grinds a little, like putting out a cigarette.

Fat Bastard straight-up howls, a loud, inarticulate sound of pure agony, and shits himself, foul-smelling brown sludge squishing upwards around his nuts to reach her boot.

The next thing he knows, she's got the same boot pressed against his face, smearing greasy shit over his lips.

"Lick it clean." She orders.

Fat Bastard gags but does not obey.

"Oh, trust me, this is not the worst thing that'll happen to you under my care. Not even close." She leans down a little, bending her knee, pressing her shit-stained boot harder into his face. "I own you now."

 


End file.
